


Missing Male Cycads

by Four_Nostril



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art, Botany, Cover Art, Fluff and Humor, For Science!, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Mathematics, Sexual Humor, professor!Kirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Four_Nostril/pseuds/Four_Nostril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Botany professor Jim Kirk relaxes with a drink the evening before the big exam. Head gardener Scott gives him a call. Three vital objects are missing! And the titan arum is about to bloom!</p><p>Definitely AU, Present-day university. Art by Karl Johnsson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cycads Missing

Tomorrow was the big exam. Botany professor Jim Kirk was pleased. It had been a long semester, and the students were tired, but he knew they would do well. His students always did well. He was very proud of the fact that his ratio of F students was smaller than that of the other teachers. It was not because his tests were easier, oh no. It was – and he was always willing to share this wisdom – it was due to a combination of living material (plants were easy that way) and dirty jokes (plants were easy that way). Sure, sometimes complaints reached the principal but she was on board with his teaching methods. Besides, he followed an old tradition since the days of Linnaeus. [**That**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Linnaeus) guy had had a dirty mind.

Jim poured himself a sherry. He raised his glass to toast with a portrait of Linnaeus on the wall. With his dark baroque eyes and powdered wig, the old botanist still looked very approachable and approving. It was Jim's favourite painting. Then the phone rang. The display showed the head gardeners contact information.

"Hello, professor? It's Montgomery."

"Scotty, how's it going? Everything in order for tomorrow?"

"No, sir. That's why I'm calling. We can't get the exhibit for the third question." Jim walked over to his desk and looked at the third question. _Oh damn._

"The cycads?"

"Aye. We've got plenty of cycads, but you asked for three fertile male plants and we don't even have one."

"But . . ."

"I know what you're thinking, professor, and we had some just last week. But they got mealybugs and were taken outside for spraying and they didn't like that." Jim could hear in Scotty's voice that he had already tried all he could think of. Jim knew his gardener; he would never bother him unless it was serious. He picked up the test paper again. The question was a long one, worth ten points.

"I'll come right over. It's an hour drive, but wait for me."

"Aye, sir."

 

–***–

**3 a) Examine the third object on display. Give the scientific name and the order.**

**3 b) What sort of gametangia are present? Describe them.**

**3 c) Describe the generation cycle of the object; include position of meiosis and haploid/diploid stages.**

**3 d) Draw a simple cladogram to describe the position of the third displayed object compared to the others on display.**

–***–

 

No, that settled it. The other displayed objects were a fern, a conifer, a tuft of _Coix_ _lacryma_ - _jobi_ , (Jim's favourite grass species), and a plate of _Marchantia_ liverwort. The only other thing that could replace the cycads would be male Ginkgo, but that would be even harder to find right now. Jim was getting his jacket and was moving towards the door with the phone in his hands when he froze, jacket half way on.

 

_Cycads . . ._

_Where did I see cycads . . . ?_

 

His memory was working furiously, trying to place an image of three large wooden crates of cycads with an undergrowth of spiderwort. _Where did I see that? Not in my department, somewhere else . . . yes! During the guided tour of the new building. Mathematics!_ Jim was certain now. There had been a large display of cycads, Zamia roezlii to be precise, under the skylight in the new math building. He had noticed them as the only beautiful thing in the room.

 

Not true. There had been one more beautiful thing there. But never mind that now. Jim pulled up the phone numbers for the staff of the mathematics department and started calling them from top position and down. The principal was out. The dean was out. Four professors in a row were out. Well, it was late. Jim dialled the number to an 'Exchange guest senior assistant professor' whatever that meant. A very deep voice answered the phone and Jim was taken aback. He had begun to think there was nobody there at all.

"Spock here."

"Um, hello! This is Jim Kirk from the botany department. I have an unusual request. Could you go out into the corridor and have a look at the plants under the skylight?"

"One moment." Jim heard the scraping of a chair and a door opening. The voice returned. "Yes, I am now looking at the plants."

"Good. Can you see if they are fertile? And if so, if they are male?"

"I am afraid you will first have to inform me how this is detected, I am not familiar with these organisms."

"Okay, no problem. You could just snap me a photo with your phone."

"This is not a cell phone, it is the cordless phone from my office. It does not come equipped with a camera."

"Oh. All right, the male organs are large cones, emerging at the centre."

"One moment, I will lift the fronds to see better."

"The cones are cylindrical, elongate, ten to twelve inches on a thick stalk, with an hexagonal pattern. This plant has sperm so large it is visible with the naked eye." _No brain, no! That was not necessary information_. Jim could feel his ears turn red.

"The cones are light brown, and with a soft velvety surface?"

"YES! Now stay there while I call the gardener."

"You have not yet told me what you needed this information for."

"I'll have to get back to you on that. Besides, I owe you a lunch, I'll pick you up tomorrow - no wait, that's when the exam is. Friday."

"That is not necessary."

"I insist." Jim hung up on the baffled mathematician and called the head gardener.

"Scotty? Do you have a forklift available?"

"Aye."

"Then get in it and drive over to the mathematics department, top floor. Use the maintenance elevator. You have three crates of cycads to pick up."

"Yes, sir. I knew you could do it, sir."

–***–

 


	2. A Pile of Papers

Thursday came and went. Three halls with forty students in each, the front desk a spectacle of green and brown exhibits. Scribbling, drawing, pondering. The most nervous students walking back and forth between the exhibits until the staff told them to leave room for the next student. Coloured pencils getting sharpened. No multiple-choice questions in the class run by Jim Kirk, that was for sure.

Jim was watching over it all, walking around in the different rooms. The students were not allowed to ask him questions but he still felt he should be there. After five hours it was over. The greenhouse staff came to take the plants away. Scotty lamented.

"Will you look at that! This poor liverwort's been handled too much. See here, all around the edge!" He was holding the plate close to his face and looked at the bruised thallus. Jim smiled at him.

"Come now, Scotty! Exam day takes a lot out of all of us. The students, me, you, and the plants. They are our co-workers. And besides, liverworts like it rough. You know very well that thing will be more lush next week than it was before."

"Humph."

"Only because of your treatment, of course. You're a miracle worker, Scotty, you could make a stone sprout." Jim gave Scott a slap on the shoulder. One of the assistants opened both doors to the hall wide to let the forklift in. Jim jokingly pointed to the high stack of exam papers on the desk.

"Hey, how about you use that forklift to help me get that pile to my office?"

–***–

Friday came. Jim had been grading papers every waking hour, using his fastest method. First, find all papers that are flawless and grade them. No mistakes meant little work to do for Jim. Then came the nearly flawless, where the mistakes could be easily marked, and graded accordingly. The next step was the hopeless ones. There were always a few of those. The ones who answered less than half the questions, or earnestly wrote 'I don't know'. They were also easy to grade, as they expected and deserved an F.

 

But the rest – oh, that was the hard part. Here was where he had to be as justly subjective as possible. Pass or fail? It depended on if Jim himself considered the mistakes important or insignificant. He was bracing himself for dealing with one student that had called the cycad a 'palm' in the first line but correctly identified it as a Zamia further down. The beep of the phone interrupted him.

"Hello, Kirk here."

"Where should we meet?"

"For what?"

"I'm sorry, perhaps I misunderstood. Goodbye." When Jim heard the dark voice it all came back to him. Friday! The math guy! He stood up so quickly that the chair toppled over behind him.

"No, no, don't hang up! I'm still here! Hello?"

"Yes?"

"Outside the Aula Magna, under the clock-on-a-spike. In ten minutes."

–***–

The sun was shining and the campus was busy. Lots of students were eating their lunch outdoors. Jim spotted a gang from his class and waved at them as he walked by. They waved back and hollered.

"Hey, what are you doing outside? Shouldn't you be grading papers, sir?"

"Even a teacher has to eat! You wouldn't want me to be hungry and grumpy, would you?" He threw out his hands and walked backwards to keep eye contact as he passed them. They laughed and looked happy. Well, he hadn't failed any of those eight yet, so they were entitled to enjoy themselves. Jim turned around to see where he was going and spotted a slim dark figure under the clock. Why was the man wearing a black suit in May?

–***–


	3. Lentils for Lunch

The two men were walking on the footpath towards one of Jim's most frequent hangouts, the Texas Longhorn Steak House. It had the advantage of being a bit too expensive for most students, so you would always get a table.

"So, your name is Spock? Do you have a first name to go with that?"

"I do have another name, but since I have found it hard to pronounce for English-speaking individuals, I normally refrain from using it." Jim glanced up at his face with a slight smile. The English was flawless, indeed a bit too flawless. Foreign exchange, then. Jim pointed to the red-and-blue sign ahead.

"Right there."

"Do they have a vegetarian alternative?"

"No, I don't mean that one, the next one right behind it. Govindas." _Smooth, Jim, smooth_. Having been around the block a few times, Jim knew how to make a date feel comfortable. Not that this was a date. No.

 

Govindas was packed, and they would have been standing in line for a long time had Jim not been recognised by a former student now working as a waiter. The youngster placed them at a table by the window and handed them the menus. He took a pencil he kept stashed in his largest ear gouge and wrote down their order. Spock looked at the waiter's extended ear lobes but said nothing. Jim looked around and took in the pseudo-indian decor. He hadn't been here for a while, maybe a year. Not a bad place. When he had been dating the lady from Creative Arts he had had lunch here with her every day. What a dame that had been. She looked all ethereal and innocent, but had hidden depths. Ruth. Once, she had convinced Jim to model for her croquis class. She had flattered him and he hadn't been very hard to persuade. But then, as soon as he was standing there without his clothes, she had gone to stand at the back of the room where the students couldn't see her, and flashed him her boobs. She had fondled them, too, and of course Jim had gotten hard in no time at all. In front of the class.

The affair had ended shortly after that.

 

_Well_ , Jim thought to himself _. At least I don't have to worry that my company today will pull a stunt like that._ But the mind is a strange thing. The image of Spock with a sketchbook and a charcoal, studying Jim in detail, presented itself. The fantasy was complete with Jim's erection and all, and when the waiter returned with the soup, Jim didn't notice him. Lost in thought and trying to shift his now real erection around without being seen, it was instead Spock who had to hint that Jim needed to give the waiter room to set the plates down. Curried lentil soup.

 

As is the custom when university folks get talking, the conversation soon focussed on teaching.

"I have had the misfortune to assign a failing grade to 85.2% of the students in my class."

"Wow, that's a lot! Is your subject really that difficult?"

"I do not think so. I find it a thing of beauty and most logical. I show them how the derivations are done, and how they can not be done any other way. Yet they are not able to do this by themselves. I find it disappointing."

"Can't you make it easier to remember? Appeal to their senses?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, this is my favourite example: notchweed. You know it? It's also called stinking goosefoot. There are plenty of species of goosefoot, Chenopodium, and many of them smell bad. So what I do is, I pick some and hand them out. The students get to smell them and to describe the smell. They answer that they smell foul, a bit like fish gone bad. Then I tell them that the full name is [Chenopodium vulvaria](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chenopodium_vulvaria)! Linnaeus sure knew what he was talking about." Jim slapped the table and leaned back laughing. Spock, however, was silent.

"I believe I don't, as you say, 'get it'." Kirk stopped laughing and cleared his throat.

"Well . . . the name is vulvaria. As in vulva."

"I see. Vulva as in external female genitalia?"

"Yes."

"I still don't see the connection." Spock looked curious. Jim was now blushing. He felt like he had been asked to explain to his mother why he had been cursing at the dinner table. But this was his best joke, he told it every year!

"Notchweed smells like fish . . . like vulvas do."

"They do?"

"Yes . . . sometimes."

"Oh."

Spock raised one eyebrow and took the last sip from his glass of water. "Yes, I see. Surely the students find that easy to remember. I think your subject lends itself to this kind of mnemonic aids more than mine does."

 

Thankfully lunch was now over. Jim wanted to get back to his room as soon as possible and never make a fool of himself in front of this cool collected genius again. He had made an ass of himself but at least it was over. They walked back to the clock-on-a-spike and shook hands. Jim said goodbye and turned to leave, but Spock touched him on the shoulder with a finger.

"Would you available for lunch again next Friday? I found it pleasant to have company."

"You did?"

–***–


	4. Fifty-three Fridays

This year had 53 Fridays. The new friends did not miss a single lunch, and they found a better restaurant. On one occasion, Jim arrived late. With a gesture that made him look as if he was presenting a ring in a box, he put a minute petri dish down on top of the menu and handed Spock a hand lens.

"Here, have a look! I caught it just for you."

"What is it?"

"Nope. You know how I do things. First you look, and describe it to me." Spock looked down in the dish. Besides water, he saw nothing. Jim told him to hold his black sleeve under it as a background, and then he could see a small pale object, the size of a grain of table salt, moving in the fluid. When he used the lens, he could see it in detail.

"I'm not sure how to describe it. Roughly spherical, and ciliated. Fascinating."

"I've been using the image 'a cinnamon bun with eyelashes instead of sprinkles'. This is the gamete of the [Zamia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zamia_roezlii) you once allowed me to borrow. The worlds largest sperm cell."

"I would not have recognised it as a sperm cell. The shape is most unusual."

"Well, the traditional tadpoles are just for animals, and not even all animals. But how about that lunch? What did you order?"

 

The failing rate of the math students in Spock's class decreased to an acceptable 65% during the semester.

 

–***–

 

Jim ran over the frosty grass to the apartment building at the edge of the campus. Too much in a hurry to wait for the elevator, he ran up four stairs and knocked on Spock's door. The man appeared in a chequered pyjama, visibly alarmed.

"Get dressed, hurry up! It's happening!"

"What is happening?"

"Wake up properly. What have I been talking about all week? What have Scotty been putting on the news feed every two hours? What did you – perhaps rashly – say that you wanted to see?"

"Ah yes. The titan arum."

"Exactly, now get dressed!"

 

After Spock had gotten dressed – immaculately, much to Jim's consternation, who wanted him to just throw on a dressing gown and go – they left the building. Dawn was breaking and the campus was empty except for themselves, but when they came to the greenhouse Spock saw several cars, a couple of people walking in, and camera flashes. They entered and found Scott, happy and beaming.

"She's doing fine, sir. Won't be long now. She got as high as 189 centimetres before she stared to swell laterally instead."

"Too bad, Scotty. I know you were hoping for her to get above 195cm to break the Stockholm record."

"Oh, I'll settle for what we've got. Glad you came to watch the big event, sir." Scott gave Spock a nod.

A big event indeed. Spock left Jim and Scott to discuss ventilation and walked over to the barrel-like pot standing in the middle of the room, behind velvet ropes. There was a small gathering of onlookers, some with cameras. They spoke in low voices. Spock found this behaviour illogical, since flowering plants could hardly be woken up by noise. He read the sign. The titan arum only flowers every fifteen years or so. The meantime is spent stocking nutrients and energy in the subterranean tuber, which can reach a weight of 50kg or more. The sign also said the large single leaf growing in the other barrel was a younger individual of the same species. The leaf was over three meters tall and the stalk was spotted in purple. Jim now caught up with Spock.

"Big guy, isn't he?" Jim stood with his arms akimbo and gazed over the enormous pale green bud.

"The head gardener called it a 'she'."

"Yes, well, it's both, so take your pick. I think of it as a he due to the name."

"Which is . . .?"

"[Amorphophallus titanum](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amorphophallus_titanum). Gigantic misshaped phallus."

"Of course."

 

The bud was warm. A thermometer with a digital display showed that it was body temperature. A very slight slit had appeared at the top. Jim unpacked a camera and took his jacket off.

"I'm planning to get pictures from above. I found a place up there where I can . . . hey!" Jim was pointing to some aluminium tubes which were part of the irrigation system. Someone else was already there. A short, weather-beaten, khaki-clad woman in her fifties was hanging upside-down in her knees, apparently where Jim had planned to be. "Hey, that's my spot!"

"I don't see your name on it. Unless your name is 'Caution! Don't touch!'. Don't bother me, it's starting."

"I order you to get down!"

"You're not my boss, sonny. Bug off." The lady did not even move her eyes from her camera display. Jim could get security and make her come down, but then he could hardly climb up there himself afterwards, with security present. Spock spoke to him.

"How high do you need to be?"

"Well, the crate is 50cm, the bud is 189cm, and I want to be above that."

"Then it would suffice if you were to sit on my shoulders."

 

–***–

_The best seat in the house_ , Jim thought to himself. He was riding high on Spock's shoulders and had been doing so for fifteen minutes. The angle was perfect, and the fact that he could ask Spock to walk around to the other side when necessary made it better than he could have hoped for. Jim lowered the camera and spoke to the man between his thighs.

"I can jump down if you need a rest."

"That will not be necessary." Spock rested his hands on Jim's knees. "I must admit that the odour is nauseating, though."

"Overwhelming. I can see carrion flies bumping against the glass frames trying to get in. That's why Scotty shut the ventilation for a while, otherwise they'd be buzzing around all over the thing. Smells like a dead horse on a hot day." Jim felt Spock wobble and became concerned. "You're not gonna faint, are you?"

"No."

"Throw up?"

"Possibly." Spock moved his hand from Jim's knee to support himself against a young tree. He held a branch in a tight grip. Jim took more pictures and then noticed what Spock was holding.

"That will help. Smell your hand." Spock did so and felt a lot better. The bark was pleasantly aromatic. The sign on the trunk said 'Eastern Forest Tressa bark. Donation.'

 

With the pungent stench of the arum somewhat mollified by the Tressa, Spock kept Jim on his shoulders until the show was over. The  spathe was now completely rolled down, the spadix exposed and pale. Scotty had opened the windows and flies and beetles were crawling in. The woman in khaki climbed down and tried to stand up straight again. It was now late morning and the amateur flower lovers swarmed to the green house, attracted by Scotty's tweets as if they, too, were carrion flies.

"What do you say we go and have breakfast, Spock? I know it's not Friday."

"I am willing to make an exception."

–***–

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tressa bark courtesy of Farfalla.


	5. ART by Karl Johnson

[ ](http://s36.photobucket.com/user/Four-Nostril/media/Amorphophallus_small_zps9be72740.jpg.html)


	6. Old Advice

"Leaving? What do you mean, leaving?"

"The designated exchange research period is coming to an end. I will return to my old university."

"Where is that?"

"Kalamata, Greece." This statement was so surprising that Jim almost forgot he was angry with Spock for not mentioning this earlier.

"You're Greek?"

"No." Spock's short laconic answer did not invite further investigating.

–***–

One week later, Spock was gone. The few things he had, the books, the computer, the immaculate suits in brown and black, were all packed in a single suitcase that didn't even cause any overweight fees. Jim had driven him to the airport in silence. He had been queuing with him all the way up to the security checkpoint, hoping for a hug. He got a handshake. The pain could not be compensated by getting to see Spock take off his shoes and jacket before passing through the metal detector. Now Jim was back in his own apartment. Having already drunk all the sherry, he was now halfway through a bottle of hideous spiced Swedish Brannvin a student once gave him. He plopped down in his armchair, intending to fall asleep in it. Hangover be damned. He just wanted to stew in his misery and the smell of coriander. He heard someone speak to him, but he was too drunk to be startled.

"You are drinking much more than usual. _Temperantia est virtutibus cardinalibus_ , you know."

"Linnaeus? Yeah, I know. Today I don't care about virtues. Someone I know was very virtuous and I didn't enjoy that at all."

"Someone you know?"

"A fellow scientist left to go abroad."

"And you forgot to provide him with a list of the plants you want him to send you?"

"No, I just miss him. Everything felt better when he was here."

"Perhaps he helped keep your humours balanced. I had a friend like that, he worked with fishes. Peter Artedi. He had much _phlegma_ , was slow and cold while I had much _haima_ , and was quick and warm. Describe this colleague to me, that I may diagnose him."

"All right, if you want me too. He's a bit taller than me and has black hair and pale skin. He moves very deliberately. I can see it especially in his hands. You know how people fidget, move their hands to this place and that for no particular reason? He's never like that. Every minute I watch him he is so present in his hands. You can tell that he has placed them where they are for a purpose. The fingertips look so sensitive, I have seen him put them down on a surface one by one, as if savouring the touch or even fearing it. He has . . . "

"Stop, stop! _Quantum satis_ , my friend. I have enough for a diagnosis."

"Already?"

"Yes. My diagnosis is that you are a horny as a bull and as deeply in love as a young maiden."

–***–

Jim lifted his glass to finish it but changed his mind and put it down on a stack of books. In a moment of clarity he asked himself why he was talking to the portrait of a botanist born 250 years ago. Had the guy even spoken English? Maybe he had fallen asleep already. Maybe it was not important. The portrait was silent.

"Did I shock you?"

"Dear boy, I was a court physician for years. I am not easily shocked. Besides, it makes the transfer of said fluids easier and more efficient. Semen is a very powerful _chymos_."

"I don't think that will be happening. Like I said, he left."

"Angry?"

"No, a bit sad, I think. I mean, he is often silent, but not like he was today. On the other hand, he never approached me in any way, even when I hinted at it. I don't want to make a fool of myself by asking him when he's not interested."

"A man is always a fool. This foolishness starts at age fifteen and never ends. If you intend to shift from _classis Monandria_ to _Diandria_ . . ."

"No female involved."

"If you intend to shift from _classis Monandria_ to _Dioecia_ , the best advise I can give you is this. It is most adventageous to have _coitus_ not more than every eight days, to prevent a loss of power that can be detrimental. More often in winter than in summer. Never after a bath or a heavy meal unless it's after lent."

"You don't say. Did you follow these rules, may I ask?" Jim smiled slightly, and tried to turn in his chair and look Linnaeus straight in the eyes. His body didn't move when he ordered it. The room was dark and the stars were visible outside the window. He had forgotten to close the curtains _. I am sleeping. Should've known it._

–***–


	7. Feeling Green

Spock was standing at the window, looking down at the sunny, quiet street. A cat walked past, skipping over patches of broken sidewalk. It was going downhill, heading for the square or the harbour. I was early afternoon and the sun had reached the vegetable stand outside the grocery store. The owner came out, tossed her cigarette in the gutter and pulled down the awning to shade the produce. Spock knew that later, in summer, she would have the awning down all day. But this was only late spring.

 

It had been very pleasant to be abroad. Going home was normally relaxing, but not this time. Home was peaceful, indeed very much so, but also lonely. He had enjoyed Jim's company. Even though Spock was certain that the principal had ordered Jim to befriend the foreigner, he still liked to believe that Jim had enjoyed it a bit as well. He wouldn't blame Jim if he had found it fatiguing, trying every way to save the math students. No doubt he was now back in his ordinary social circle of extroverts, where he could shine and have his jokes appreciated.

 

Spock had appreciated his jokes, but perhaps he had not shown it. He had also enjoyed Jim's warmth, and touch. His disregard of personal space. The sensation of Jim's thighs on his shoulders sometimes came back to Spock just as he was about to fall asleep. He could remember it so vividly. It was too easy to imagine those thighs around his waist. Or even around his hips, strong and . . . Spock shuddered.

 

He had enjoyed having a friend.

 

_Do not lie to yourself. He spent time with you out of pity. And if he is your 'friend', why do you keep fantasising? If you value a friendship you should not corrupt it with such things._ It had been two weeks and Jim had not called, and that said it all, did it not? A duty had been completed as far as he was concerned.

 

He decided to get his groceries now. He took his wallet, walked down the two stairs and down the street. The storeowner greeted him as a regular and tried – as usual – to convince him to buy a different brand of feta cheese. It did not matter how many times he insisted that he preferred the cheap brand. There were no other customers and he was soon walking back uphill with a bag of vegetables in one hand and a plastic jug of oil in the other. A car overtook him and swerved up on the sidewalk on the other side of the street. It halted, and Jim stepped out.

"Spock! There you are! Don't you have any street signs in this town? I've been circling the square five times and the guy in the newsstand must have thought I was going to rob him or something. Good thing they're used to tourists!"

 

_Jim . . ._

 

"And after all the trouble I had getting here. Do you have any idea what it took to convince the principal that the course in Mediterranean biome should be held in an actual Mediterranean country instead of California? I applied for special grants for every participant, and that's fourteen students, my assistant and myself. Okay, it hasn't been approved yet, but I took it upon myself to guarantee that it will. If not, my fat's in the fire."

 

_Jim is here . . ._

 

"I should have called, right? I should have, but I didn't. I don't know why I didn't. It felt like I had to come over, and so I did. And here I am. And so are you, and I mean, I . . . I didn't want to make a fool of myself but maybe I have done so . . . and I'm the only one talking . . . but I missed you, and . . . "

 

_Jim is here. He came here. He came to find me._

 

"Spock? Please say something." Kirk looked sad and worried. Spock was standing still, mouth open, just staring at him. Then he dropped both the bag and the jug where he stood and took some long steps up to Jim to embrace him. He wanted to press Jim against his chest and feel his warmth. He got much more than that, because as soon as Jim saw him move he met him halfway and caught him in a kiss so fast that Spock never had time to ask himself if it was appropriate. There they stood, entwined in the middle of the street. The plastic jug tipped over and rolled down two blocks and was crushed under the wheels of an approaching car, leaving a smear of oil along the tracks.

–***–


	8. Love Letters and Numbers

It must have been a very phlegmatic driver, since the reunited couple were allowed to block the street with their loving embrace for a full minute before they were interrupted by a honk from the car horn. Both men looked like they tried to save the other from danger, and pulled each other up on the sidewalk. When the car had passed, Jim ran back for Spock's groceries.

 

_Jim came to find me, and he kissed me._ Spock felt like his feet lifted from the sidewalk and he was floating in the air. He had been proved wrong. His hypothesis had been disproved. Everything he had assumed had been negated, and Spock's brain was quickly rearranging the available facts into a new model. Being wrong had never felt so good.  _This means I can have him. It is permitted. This means he can touch me. It is permitted.  I need him to touch me . . ._

 

Dizzy from the peculiar sensation that comes with having your world turned over, Spock grabbed Jim by the arms and practically pushed him backwards towards the house. Jim got his heels caught on the step but didn't fall. Due to the frantic kissing, groping and grabbing, it took a long time to get upstairs. Some articles of clothing had been disposed of on the way, neither cared that they were dropped outside the apartment. Spock opened with trembling hands and slammed the door shut after them. Jim reached for the knot of Spock's tie and tugged at it. When he started to unbutton the shirt, Spock felt like a brand new calculator getting unpacked. He was sure Jim would peel the protective plastic layer off the screen, put hot fingerprints all over the surface, and push every button. And he wanted it.

 

 

Spock was reclining on the bed, propped up on his elbows, and Jim climbed up to straddle him. Slowly and deliberately, he moved closer and allowed the shaft of his penis to touch Spock's. The touch was very light and Spock held his breath. To him, the crossed organs formed a symbol _. A perfect chi, yes, X. That feels so good. He's sliding down, it's no longer an X, no . . . that is a V. Touching at the base, V, yes . . . oh, back up to X._ Jim pulled back a bit more and let their two tips touch. Two clear drops united in a rivulet. _Lambda_ , thought Spock. Now Jim went down on the right side and up, down on the left side and up. Spock let the symbols roll through his mind. _Lambda, X, V, X, Lambda . . ._ the touch was both satisfying and frustrating. Too light, to delicate, not enough. The frustration rose even further when Jim pulled away. Even this looked like a symbol to Spock. _II. Parallel lines, never touching. Two. II._ But Jim knew better than to keep Spock waiting for too long, and grabbed his erection at the base. Spock gasped and his head kept comparing it all to symbols. _From II to Ib._ No, wait, bb was more correct depiction since Jim was also gripping his own shaft. For a moment, Spock was wondering if he should be the one holding Jim, making it bd instead of bb, but he was dizzy and needed both arms to support himself. Jim did not seem to mind having both hands full. He moved his hands up to the tips and back down. Slowly at first but then faster. _The letters PP,_ thought Spock, and _bb - PP - bb - PP._

 

Spock knew what his internal arousal curve looked like under normal circumstances. It was almost linear, rising proportionally with time spent self-stimulating until it reached what he had designated a 100% saturation level, when orgasm would take place. Based on that, he would come in two minutes twelve seconds. He leaned his head back and relaxed to let it happen. But circumstances were not normal. Two minutes passed, and this curve was not linear. It bucked, wavered and rose beyond saturation level without reaction. He was already at 105% and had not ejaculated. It was impossible to stay relaxed. His hips moved, his stomach muscles clenched and his hands grasped the sheets. Jim kept jerking them both, and Spock was now at 110%. The fact that he did not know what would happen scared him. He needed to come, he had wanted this for so long and it was so close! Now at 120%, how would it end? Spock felt his whole body tense and lifted Jim up into the air as he arched his spine. Jim didn't lose his rhythm for a second. Spock panted and groaned, but still the curve kept climbing. Now at 135%, it was almost painful. What had been a two-dimensional curve sprouted a z-axis and turned into a checkered surface that was climbing and undulating. He heard Jim moan and Spock's eyes flew open.

"Are you close, Spock? Because I'm . . . oh fuck yes."

"Yes, I am, or I should be."

He looked into Jim's eyes to catch the most stunning sight of his life. Jim in orgasm. He saw Jim's seed on his own stomach, yet he could not follow him. He longer had any estimate of his arousal state.

"Jim, help me . . . I can't . . . please, Jim!" Jim backed down to take as much of Spock's penis as he could into his mouth and sucked hard. That did it. Spock saw his bucking numerical surface shatter and fall back towards origo like a snowfall of blue sparkels that settled behind his eyelids.

 

–***–

Much later, Jim's cell phone rang. Reluctantly, he went to pick it up from the heap of clothes. He looked at the display.

"My assistant. Sorry, I have to take this." Spock nodded.

"Hello."

"He . . . ir . . . ere are y . . . ? We've . . . ince . . ." Jim could not hear the caller very well. Spock seemed to understand what the matter was.

"You will find better reception out on the balcony." Jim walked outside and could now hear his assistant complaining.

"Sir, where are you? It's almost time to finish for the day and one car is missing."

"Oh, yeah, I took it. Don't worry, Janice. And would you believe it, it broke down, so . . . I had to stop in town for repairs. The guy in the shop said it would be done soon but maybe he was lying."

"How I despise dishonest people!"

"Hrm, yes. Anyway, you'll have to ask some students to walk back to the research station, or you can have one of the cars make a second run and pick them up. But it's only half an hour walk and it's a nice day. They'll be fine."

"But when will you get back?"

"Tomorrow morning." Jim glanced at Spock, still in bed, as he said that. Spock did not object.

"But what about the assignment for the evening? You said they were to write a short essay."

"Okay, no problem. You are all on the beach, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, so have you seen Poseidon's balls?"

"Sir?"

"Poseidon's hairy balls. Brown round things. Are there any?"

"Sir, if you are referring to egagropili, the felted tufts of fibres from [Posidonia oceanica](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Posidonia_oceanica), then yes." Jim sighed to himself. _When I get my hands on the person that assigned me an assistant without a sense of humour . . ._

"Good. Have them pick up one each and write about it. Plenty of material right there. And its role in the ecosystem. Good bye!" Jim turned off his phone. He heard giggles from above. On a balcony sat three senior ladies, sharing a bag-in-box of retsina. He was nude. The iron railing was low. But he felt carefree, happy and triumphant, and threw out his arms.

"Hey, why not take a picture, it will last longer!" But when all three raised their smartphones and aimed at him, he retreated back into the room, where he collided with Spock.

 

Spock kissed Jim on the ears and whispered.

"So you have to work?"

"Yes. But how about lunch tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow _is_ a friday."

–***–

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END.
> 
> That's all folks, please leave a word on your way out. Preferably an adjective.  
> 


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